“Thank you.”
“I do feel pretty out of the loop on what’s been going on in the last week. Wanna fill me in on who you’re planning to propose to in”—I glanced at the date on my watch—“three days?”
Oliver sighed deeply.
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re feeling that good about it, huh?”
“I know who I want to pick, but there are some big conversations that need to happen first. I owe it to her to approach her about it before I discuss it with anyone else.”
I suppressed a grin, trying not to reveal I had a good guess who he meant. “You’re a good man. She’s a lucky woman.”
Oliver leaned back and eyed me. “Now let’s talk about your happiness, Birdie.”
I blushed. “Oh, let’s not,” I sputtered.
“He misses you.”
My eyes shot to Oliver’s. “He does?”
He nodded. “He’s miserable without you.”
My stomach soared for a brief moment before falling back down into my ass. “I was terrible to him. I don’t know if he could forgive me.”
“I think you might be surprised, Birdie.”
I looked down, playing absentmindedly with the cuffs of my NYU sweatshirt.
“I have one last thing I need to discuss with you, though.”
I met his gaze. “Oh?” I said, taking a sip of wine.
“This part is official palace business, actually. I’m here to offer you a job.”
I choked on my wine. “You—what?”
“I don’t know if you recall from our tour of the palace grounds, but our palace curator retired earlier this year and we’ve been struggling to fill the position.” I nodded, recalling the conversation. “Well,” he continued, “I realized that I know the perfect candidate. Someone who has the necessary education and background, has a passion for art, and certainly doesn’t care about being around royalty. In fact, she’s unafraid to give the future king a piece of her mind.” He laughed, winking at me.
A flush filled my face as my heart threatened to race out of my chest. “What? You want me to be your palace curator?”
Oliver nodded solemnly. “We absolutely do. My parents are fully on board, as is our head of HR. I believe she will have a formal offer letter for you, but I told her that I needed to make a verbal offer in person.”
I shook my head, still in shock. “But I haven’t actually worked as a curator before! I just have my degree, don’t you want?—”
“What we want, Birdie,” he said, cutting me off as he took my hands again, “is someone just like you. I anticipate therewill be a learning curve for you, but that’s true of any job. Hell, I’m in for a real learning curve myself over these next few months. But we’re confident in our choice. What do you say?”
I paused, my mind reeling. I took a deep breath in for five seconds, held it for five seconds, and let it out for five seconds.
“Yes, I accept. On one condition...”
Knock, knock.
My hands burned from the cold and the raps against the wood door of Archer’s house. It had been a long week, and I hadn’t had any desire to leave my house unless it was necessary. But having my annual Christmas Eve get-together with Archer’s family was necessary. They had become an extension of my family and right now, I needed to be around people I loved.
Archer’s aunt, Dahlia, answered the door, and Eugene wasted zero time dashing in and making himself at home. It always took me aback a little to see such a young woman taking care of three little children. But she and her partner Jordan—both in their mid-twenties—made it work, and they made it work well.
As promised, I brought several jars of pickles along with an assortment of cheese and charcuterie and a plate of lemon cakes. I unloaded the food in the kitchen first and then headed back out to my truck to grab my Christmas presents for thefamily. After three trips to the truck, I was finally able to sit down next to the fire and start to warm up. Archer’s youngest sister, a lively six-year-old named River, had made her way into my lap and we watched their reserved eight-year-old middle sister, Riley, play tug of war with Eugene.
My mind wandered to what it would be like to have kids of my own one day and if I would ever have these moments—Christmas traditions and nights at home with the fire going and kids playing happily in the living room.
